


Paint Me A Rainbow And Call Me A Cab, Part Three

by kuonji



Series: Paint Me A Rainbow And Call Me A Cab [3]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: Ken and Dave get to know each other and visit each other's worlds through good food, bad costumes, and mutual comfort.





	

Ken picked up the receiver on the second ring. He jammed it between his ear and shoulder and shook out his hands, cut horizontally with red stripes from the heavy plastic shopping bags he'd dropped just inside the door. "Hi! I just got home. Give me ten minutes to get set up, okay?"

There was a pause. Then a voice as familiar to Ken as his own laughed in his ear. "Expecting someone, Kenny?"

"Charlie! Sorry, Dave is coming over. I'm showing him how to make my protein shakes. He said he'd call before he headed out. You want to join us?" he added belatedly.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to break up your little lover's meeting."

Ken rolled his eyes. "Yes or no?"

"Let's see... Do I want to spend a perfectly good evening drinking cow liver and curdled milk? No, I think I'll pass. Anyway, I have an early morning tomorrow."

"Really? You? Is there a UFO landing?"

"I hope not. I haven't read up on intergalactic tax law."

Ken chuckled. "So...?"

"Roger wants to talk about some investing opportunity."

"Hell, Charlie, not again."

"No, it's actually a good one! Maybe you'll even want to pitch in. In fact, that's why I called. I was wondering if you'd want to go in with me tomorrow."

"Charlie... We both know what happens to your get-rich-quick schemes."

"What would it hurt? It's just information. Weren't you telling me last week you wanted to look for something good to invest in?"

"Something 'good', yeah. I don't know..."

"Aw, c'mon. You don't trust me, fine, but Roger's got good business sense, hasn't he?"

Ken rolled his eyes. Roger Ballard did, actually. He'd made a small fortune in real estate since college when they were schoolmates together. "All right. But no decisions, okay? Not for you either. I don't want you blowing any more of your money on weird schemes."

"I'm touched!"

"In the head, maybe..." Ken muttered, as expected, and smiled as Charlie grumbled.

***

"So did he say what the investment was about?"

Ken shrugged as he set out the canisters. "Some night club. I don't know. Roger will tell us the rest of it tomorrow, I guess."

David picked up the powdered soy protein mix and scanned the ingredients. "If it sounds all right and he still needs takers, let me know. I've got some money socked away I'd like to do something with." He made a face at the canister he held in his hands. "What the hell is soy?" he asked.

"It's a kind of bean, high in protein, non-fat. The Japanese eat it and live to be a hundred years old. And I wouldn't trust anything Charlie's investing in. His plans always have a way of crashing and burning."

"A hundred, huh? Well, keep me updated anyway. John always told me I was the worst sucker there was for investin'. Maybe Charlie and I will cancel each other out." He quirked a rueful smile. "'Sides, it'd be nice to prove Johnny wrong for once. Son of a bitch had to be right about everything." His smile slipped a little and he dropped his gaze, as if unsure about having spoken badly of his deceased friend.

"Maybe you will," Ken answered. That earned him a quick dart of a smile. He went on: "Roger bought his first condo with what was supposed to be his student loan. Sold it a year later for a third again of the price. He used the profits to get a fixer-upper. He even hired a bunch of us to help renovate it." He chuckled at the memory. They'd been paid with slave wages and junk food, but it'd been fun, too, like summer camp and little league and the night before a protest march all rolled into one.

He'd met Hank then, too. Slim hips, a small, shy mouth, and mischievous gray eyes that made Ken's whole upper body blush. They'd kissed for the first time behind the dilapidated shed that they'd eventually torn down. He often wished that had ended better than it had...

"You're not putting those in raw, are you?" Dave asked, pointing at the eggs, and Ken came back to himself with a flash. The other man was glaring warily at all the other things spread out on the counter. His expression spoke of determination mixed with fear.

In answer, Ken picked up one of the eggs and cracked it into the blender with his best flourish.

Dave blanched a bit. He watched as Ken added the liver, the seaweed, the wheat grass, and the yogurt. "So, uh, one of these every day, huh?" The enthusiasm and curiosity he'd first shown seemed to be rapidly draining away.

"Yup." He hit blend and shouted over the noise. "Just like I told you. You'll have better stamina, you'll be more alert, your digestive system will work better. And you'll have great skin. I'll give you the recipe when we're done." He grinned over his shoulder and hit stop.

Dave scowled as Ken poured out the goopy mixture. "My skin is fantastic, blondie. Give it here."

Ken saluted him with his own cup and watched as Dave chugged his down then slammed the mug down on the counter, empty.

"Argh! That was the most awful thing I ever tasted!"

"Yeah, well, in ten years, you'll wish you had looked after your body better. Can't count on your line of Starsky genes forever, you know."

Dave poked Ken in the chest. "Ten years. Your kitchen. A hundred bucks says I'm way better off than you are."

Ken hesitated for a fraction of a second -- ten _years_? -- before he answered, "You're on."

He enjoyed the look of disgust on Dave's face as he drank down his own shake with relish.

***

It was nearly fifteen after by the time he got inside. Parking had been harder to find than expected for a place inauspiciously named 'The Pits'.

He caught sight of Dave waving to him as soon as he entered, and Ken threaded his way through the crowded tables of the close, dim, noisy bar to the corner table where Dave and a brunette woman wearing a beret and an ironic smile were already seated.

"Hi," he said. "Sorry I'm late." He held out his hand toward the lady as he sat down across from Dave. "Ken Hutchinson," he said.

Dave grinned. "Baylor, meet Ken. Ken, Linda Baylor."

"So you're Dave's partner, huh? I've heard a lot about you."

Linda laughed. Her voice was pleasantly rounded and husky. "Mostly uncomplimentary, I'll bet," she said, elbowing Dave in the ribs.

"He did say you have the prettiest right hook he's ever seen... from a girl."

"Ken!" Dave gulped, as Linda turned on him with an exaggerated glare.

"A 'girl', huh? You wan' ta try one of my 'pretty' right hooks firsthand?"

"No, ma'am!" Dave said quickly.

"Well, good. I just got my nails done. I'd hate to ruin 'em on a louse like you."

"Baylor, I'm hurt." Dave turned on his puppy dog eyes, and Linda whacked the back of his head with her palm. "Ow!"

"Go on, you." She quirked a smile at Ken. "Is he like this with other people, or is he only this impossible with me?"

"I'm afraid it's a chronic condition," Ken answered, straight-faced, and it was Dave's turn to glare in Ken's direction.

"See if I invite ya ta a party again," he grumbled.

"So, Starsky said he met ya when ya saved his ass at a bar?"

"Uh, you could say that. He wasn't fit to drive. I took him home." He blushed, wondering how much she knew and what she might think he was implying... but she only grinned.

"Yeah, this boy-o's a lightweight."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Baylor's Irish, and she never lets ya fergit it."

Ken smiled at how Dave's New York accent seemed to have thickened in his partner's company.

"Congratulations on your first case closed together," he said.

According to Dave, Linda had just been promoted to homicide. They had spent the first few weeks as partners tying up loose ends on some of Dave's old cases, while supposedly Dave taught her the ropes. She hadn't let that intimidate her a bit but gave as good as she got both professionally and personally. Dave hadn't known what to make of her at first. He'd never worked with a woman before and didn't want to, he'd complained. Judging from how they got along now, though, Ken thought Dave's captain had been right: Linda was good for Dave.

"Wait'll you taste the burgers here," Dave said excitedly. "My man Huggy could make a monk's mouth water."

"'Huggy'?"

As if on cue, a silky, jazzy voice announced itself: "That would be me, _mon ami_. It's the humble host of the house, Huggy Bear Brown, at your service." Ken couldn't help but stare at the riot of plaid and electric green fabric before him, draped artfully over the almost painfully slim body of a Black man with a wide but thin-lipped, expressive mouth. Dark eyes twinkled, full of secrets, and the sharp angles of his cheeks caught the light like a wood carving.

"Wow, can I--?" Ken cut himself off, chagrined. _Can I sketch you?_ , he'd almost asked out loud. "C- Can I try one of your burgers?" he finished instead.

"You can try anything you want," the man answered smoothly, with a curious lift of a brow, "long as somebody _pays_. Forgive me for being suspicious when you hang out with the likes of Starsky here."

"Hey, now. Huggy, you wound me!"

"Starsky, your tab is as long as the Great Wall o' _China_. How do you protect us _hard_ working _up_ standing cit-i-zens, when you can't even keep your finances straight, _I_ would _like_ to _know_." The man talked in a sing-song jive with bird-like darts of his head. Ken's fingers itched, wishing for some pencil and paper.

He cleared his throat, diverting Huggy's chiding glare. "Don't worry. Today's my treat." That seemed to mollify the man, and both of the cops answered enthusiastically.

As it turned out, the burger _was_ excellent. Ken liked to limit his red meat intake to only a few times a week, and this was definitely worth one of those times.

Huggy, despite his initial scowls, seemed to be good friends with Dave. The two of them argued loudly about the latest ball scores and hazed each other about what they were planning to dress up as for Halloween. Linda was boisterous and unfailingly direct. She regaled them with stories from her days in vice, where (according to her) she seemed to have attracted (and subdued) every wacko in the city.

By the time they'd polished off three burgers, four baskets of fries, three slices of lava cake, and two rounds of beer, Ken was stuffed with good humor as well as food.

He dutifully paid the bill in full to a beaming Huggy Bear, and they bid their gallant host good night. He and Dave walked Linda to her car, then stood on the sidewalk, looking at each other. Ken felt content and loathe to part company. "Want to take a walk?" he offered, when Dave made no move to leave either. "I could stand to clear my head a bit before driving home."

"Good idea," Dave agreed. Without any discussion, they turned as one to head north around the block.

They strolled past an electronics store, a watch store, a newstand, and a grocery. All except the first were closed by now, but people crowded the sidewalk on their way home or simply lounging on the streets. Ken hummed to himself as he enjoyed watching the people around him and the company beside him. An empty storefront was followed by a laundromat and an arcade gallery, then, incongruously, a theater of the alternative sort.

Maybe it was the loud "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS" sign that got Dave talking.

"John's the one who introduced us," he said. "He treated me to a Huggy Special back when I finally made detective and got my shield. That was when Huggy was still on 4th street. The Pits is new, but the Special's still the same. Three layers of everything and an extra large combo of seasoned fries and onion rings. Heart attack on a plate, John called it."

Ken smiled at the image of a slightly younger David gaping at a mountain of food before digging in with enthusiastic confidence. "How did they meet?"

"Oh, on the job somehow, I guess." Dave gave him a sidelong assessing look, then added, "Huggy helps us out sometimes."

Ken's eyebrows raised, understanding who the 'us' must mean in this context. "You mean like a-- um..." He dug out the term from a number of film noir movies and Charlie's avid following of pulp fiction. "--a stool pigeon?"

Dave laughed out loud. "Well, we call 'em snitches nowadays, but yeah. We ignore the fact that Huggy's liquor license is about as old as his grandma, and he slips us some info now an' then for a reasonable fee. Huggy's a good guy, though. He doesn't talk just for the money. He's helped us save people's lives -- cops' lives, even -- just 'cause it was the right thing to do."

Ken assessed Dave's tone of voice with interest. "He's not just an informant, is he?"

"No," Dave readily agreed. He glanced back down the street toward The Pits. "Marc didn't like him so much. Marc's real square, you know. He'd take a bullet for anyone on the force, but he doesn't like to get chummy with the 'other side', as he calls it. Baylor, though, she's taken a lot of knocks on account of bein' a female detective. She took to Huggy right away. And he likes her." He shrugged, as if feigning unconcern. "That's good for us. A cop needs solid sources to do his job."

"It looked to me like he likes you, too."

"Yeah?" Dave looked pleased at the thought.

***

"He looked so goddamn happy. About a snitch liking him. You should've seen the look on his face, like a kid in a toy store. There's just something so fascinating about him." There was a long pause. "Charlie?"

"Ken, you're not... You know he's straight, right?"

"What? Of course." Ken scowled and switched the receiver to his other ear so he could pick up a pencil with his right hand. "Not everything is about getting laid, you know."

"That's just it."

"Huh?"

"We already knew he's a handsome devil. But it sounds to me like you're falling for him."

Ken snorted. "That's ridiculous. I just..." He hesitated, filling out Huggy's jawbone a bit as he thought. "He's just so _interesting_. He's not like anyone I've ever known, and he keeps surprising me." He sighed. "Anyway," he added briskly, as he sketched in an outrageous bowtie and the top of a vest, "I'm pretty sure it won't last."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's always talking about his friend, John, when we're together. I think it's only a matter of time before he sorts out all his feelings about that. And then... he won't need me to listen to him anymore." He tapped his pencil on the paper, considered for a moment, darkened Huggy's hair a shade more, then decided it was done.

"You do realize that friendships _start_ somewhere. I mean, look at us. The protests were over years ago and we're still friends."

"That's different." He picked a clean spot and started sketching out a female face. He had to pause, trying to remember the shape of Linda's eyes.

"How?"

"It wasn't just the protests. You..." His pencil wavered, ruining the expression on the lipsticked mouth, and he set it down with a frown. "You saved my life. That's not something a man forgets."

"So you're saying we weren't friends before that? We were just, what, casual acquaintances? If I hadn't picked up, I guess you would've called the next guy on the list, huh?"

Ken winced. His best friend was so easy-going, it was usually hard to hurt his feelings. It made Ken careless sometimes. "Charlie, I didn't mean it that way."

"Sure could've fooled me."

"No, you're right. You were the... the only person I felt like I could trust. That's the truth, Charlie. I thought you knew." There was no answer for a moment. "I'm really sorry."

Charlie sighed. "Okay. I know." His voice turned teasing. "You know, Ken. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean life's _not_ out to get you."

"Yeah, yeah, make fun of the pessimist." Ken tried to smile at the attempt at humor. "So are you going to the Van Haus party?"

Charlie accepted the change in topic smoothly. "No, I think Tamale's this year. I hear they'll have someone jump out of a giant pumpkin!"

Ken laughed for real this time. He continued to chat easily with his friend, while sketching more and more absurd images of exploding man-sized pumpkins.

***

"So the, uh, pumpkin. It's actually edible?"

David stared, wide-eyed, at the stage, where detritus in the form of purple and black streamers, gold confetti, and streaks of cinnamon-colored whipped cream were being cleaned off the stage. To the side, the remnants of the gigantic pumpkin-shaped confection were being divided onto plates. The young man who had popped out of the center of it to start off the night's festivities was standing by to serve up pieces and pose for pictures. As they watched, he smeared a bit of frosting on one finger and licked it off salaciously. Flash bulbs burst all around him.

Ken was pretty sure Dave hadn't planned on spending Halloween night at a gay bar with himself and Charlie. Before yesterday, the poor guy had probably never imagined himself having the dubious pleasure of watching a skimpily-clad man leap out of a large fake pumpkin to a roaring (and already partly-inebriated) crowd.

Charlie was the one who had suggested it: _"Max's ticket will just go to waste otherwise. And David wants to see how the other half lives, right?"_

Ken had pointed out that one of the most wild nights of the year was hardly the most complimentary way to present the gay community to a gun-shy police detective. Charlie had only grinned.

_"Show him the worst of it first, and nothing else in the world will ever faze him again."_

Ken wasn't sure how solid that advice was, but nevertheless he had extended the invitation -- and surprisingly, Dave had accepted.

A troupe of outrageously cross-dressed Wizard of Oz character impersonators was now setting up on stage. From their costumes and from past experience, Ken would bet their skit was going to be decidedly X-rated.

"I wonder how long it took to make that thing?" Dave mused out loud. "You think it tastes any good?"

Ken rolled his eyes. "It's probably ninety percent frosting. Plus, it's been around make-up powder, confetti, and dust for at least an hour. What do you think?"

Dave shrugged, at the same time as Charlie groused, "You're no fun. C'mon, the costume contest signups and prelims are in the next room."

As was his habit, Ken followed behind his more adventuresome friend. Dave tagged along closely. "Hey," Dave called over the stage dialogue, the background music, and the hum of a room bursting with people. "What's Charlie supposed to be?"

Ken regarded his friend's outfit, a deep red robe, thigh-high boots, a high crown, and a scepter, with a large red heart plastered on each buttock. "Queen of Hearts, I think," he replied. "He and some other guys are doing Alice in Wonderland."

He snickered, enjoying Dave's facial contortions as he tried to look interested instead of horrified. "He, uh, he looks good," he finally said. "Very, um... red."

"You look nice yourself, Count Dracula," Ken said, laughing.

Dave swung his cloak around dramatically and grinned, showing his plastic teeth.

***

Two hours later, Ken was sweating in his own cloak and dress shirt. He had to admit, though, he'd been honestly having a good time for once.

Charlie was his usual irrepressible self. His team had unfortunately not made it into the finals for the costume contest, but he had hammed it up for the cameras and moaned his loss to all and sundry. Dave had obviously been enjoying himself, as well. He was fascinated by the shows and contests, even joining in for the costumed dance-off. He turned out to be a better-than-average dancer and a bit of a show-off, too. The raw sexuality in the way he controlled his body would be indecent if it weren't paired with the most unselfconsciously boyish smiles that Ken had ever seen.

There'd been a worrisome moment right after the dance-off when a man dressed as Tarzan had made a half-serious suggestion to the handsome vampire. Dave had stammered and stared until Ken had rescued him with a calm refusal on his behalf. The incident seemed to have reminded Dave of exactly where he was, and for a while, he'd jumped nervously at every glance or touch, looking like he wished he could see in all directions at once.

Luckily, Ken coming to his rescue had also embarrassed the tough cop enough that the next time someone approached him, Dave stoutly answered for himself. The other man's casual acceptance of his refusal seemed to relieve Dave, and by the time he'd had a few drinks while glued timidly to Ken's side, he'd been able to relax and start making jokes himself -- and even a few off-color remarks that had Ken and Charlie laughing.

Charlie had been right after all. Dave seemed to be taking everything in stride now. When the pair of men dressed as an angel and a devil asked him for a dance, he only shook his head and quipped, "Sorry, fellas, we undead have to roam Purgatory forever, you know."

Ken made sure to keep Dave within sight just the same. Even if he could probably take care of himself, Ken didn't want the cop to get into any trouble over some reflex action or an inadvertent slight. So far, the festive atmosphere had kept everyone friendly and easy-going. The patrons were getting more and more drunk as the evening wore on, though, which was reason to keep a clear head himself.

Charlie, fresh back from the dance floor, held up a hand for the barkeep and collapsed on the stool next to Ken. He ordered a club soda and sucked it down fast. "Where's Dave?"

Ken pointed down the bar where Dave was chatting, mesmerized, with a woman dressed as a very sleek tabby cat and another woman dressed as a Siamese. "He only _just_ realized that there are lesbians here, too."

Charlie laughed uproariously. "Oh, boy. Good luck getting him away from here until closing time now."

"Speaking of which, once Romeo there gets his head out of the clouds, you want to take a break outside for a while?" The oppression of bodies, which was getting worse as it got later, was getting to Ken. He hated feeling trapped.

"Sure." Charlie put his now-empty bottle behind the bar, and they watched in amusement as Dave continued in open admiration of his two female companions.

After another minute, the two catwomen kissed Dave on either side of his face and sauntered off together. Dave stared after them, mouth hanging slightly open. Exchanging grins, Ken and Charlie went to collect him.

"What'd they want?" Ken asked, as they wended their way through the crowd to an exit.

"Uh, n-nothing. They were just telling me how they met an' stuff." Dave was blushing. "They said I was cute," he blurted.

"You do realize that they're _highly_ unlikely to sleep with you, no matter how cute you are."

"Yeah." Dave sighed, looking regretful. Then his smile turned raunchy. "After all, those kitty-cats are curling up with other pussies tonight."

Ken groaned.

They burst outside into the welcome dry cool. It was wonderfully quiet after the pounding music inside. With dark pink Club Tamale stamps on their hands, they'd be able to get back in later.

They all leaned against the wall with sighs of obvious relief, and Ken took a few deep breaths. He took off his Phantom of the Opera half-mask and fanned himself with it. Fall in Bay City wasn't too cold, and Ken tended to run hot anyway. He felt pleasantly buzzed, too, from alcohol and the excitement of a rare evening on the town.

"It's too bad you guys lost," he commiserated after a while.

Charlie grumbled. "Yeah, I can't believe we were beat out by another Alice In Wonderland group. Copycats. And there was no _way_ that other Queen's costume was better than mine. The asshole must be sleeping with one of the judges."

Ken snickered. Charlie always did hate to lose. "I hate to tell you this, buddy, but I don't think you're cut out for the voluptuous look. You'll have to paint your rainbows elsewhere next year."

"Says the idiot who wears the same costume every year. Who does that, for god's sake?"

"There's an old saying: 'If it ain't broke...'"

"You're supposed to be an artist! Can't you come up with something better than the same old thing?"

"What does that mean, anyway?"

"What?" They both turned to Dave, having almost forgotten he was there in the midst of their annual argument. Dave was peering at them curiously.

"'Painting rainbows'. I've heard you and Charlie use it before. Is it some, uh, gay thing?"

Ken raised his eyebrows and looked at Charlie inquiringly. Charlie shrugged, and Ken turned his attention back to Dave.

"No... It's more of an us thing." When Dave nodded, he continued, haltingly, "Charlie and I met in college during a preparation party for one of the peace marches. We were in charge of painting signs. Rainbows for peace. No more nuclear weapons. No more hatred in the world." He shook his head. They'd been so young then. "I guess it's like making a wish." He mimed painting a swath of color across the sky. "Paint a rainbow, and we can have miracles."

He noticed Charlie giving him a questioning look, and he shrugged back. There was no need to share the whole meaning with Dave. It might have devolved into a joke between himself and Charlie now, but it still seemed too private somehow, to air on a public street. It still hurt a little bit down deep where that idealistic corner of his never quite gave up.

"That's nice," Dave said. "I like that."

Ken shot Charlie a small smile, which Charlie returned.

***

Linda was waiting for them in front of her apartment building when they pulled up. Ken waved at the broad-faced brunette wearing dress slacks and light, no-nonsense make-up. He exited the car quickly to allow her to climb in between the two of them.

"Happy Turkey Day, boys!"

"Best day of the year for us turkeys," Dave returned. His heart didn't seem quite in it, though, and he tensed even more as he pulled back into the street.

Linda looked back and forth between them, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. Ken wished he could help her, but he didn't feel much more up to small talk than Dave apparently did. The other man had called him only yesterday. Ken was still wondering about his judgment in accepting the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner, considering who was hosting it.

"I've never been to Maggie's before. Do they live far?" Linda ventured to ask.

Dave threw Linda an irritated look. "Not far."

Linda's innate directness came to the fore. "You useta live next door to 'em, right?"

"Yeah." A pause. "My aunt and uncle's house. They've moved since then, though."

"Were ya close to the Blaines?"

"Yeah."

"Musta been a bad shock, what happened to John."

"Yeah. It was." Dave glanced at Ken and smiled wryly. "That's how I met Ken. Got shit-faced after John's funeral."

That was news to Ken. He sat up straighter, interested.

"They ain't got any kids, right?"

"No."

Linda nodded. "That's sad. Shit. Poor gal. Scuttlebutt says she couldn't get pregnant."

"Baylor!" David looked shocked, then incensed. "You shut your mouth."

Linda held up her hands apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just tellin' ya what I heard."

"Yeah? Well, what ya heard is crap. Don't you let me hear you insultin' Maggie again."

"Hey! What d'ya mean, insultin'? Are you sayin' there's somethin' _wrong_ with a woman just 'cause she can't make like a baby factory?"

That stymied Dave for a moment. "She's got you there, pal." Ken reached across and put a calming hand on Dave's arm. "C'mon, let it go."

Dave's fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but he mumbled "Sorry" at his glaring partner.

Linda crossed her arms. "Apology accepted." She turned and said out the window, "And sorry for gossipin’. I didn’t mean anything by it."

"'Pology 'cepted," Dave mumbled.

Unseen by either of them, Ken rolled his eyes.

Nobody spoke anymore until they reached their destination.

The Blaine house was pleasant, homey, cozy and practical. Margaret Blaine was the same. She was tall and graceful, with brown wavy hair and amazing green-grey eyes that Ken wanted to memorize and mix later in his studio. She seemed subdued but not overtly sad as she greeted Dave and kissed him on the cheek. She looked curious at Ken's presence but accepted him as 'a friend' who didn't have family for the holiday, which was the truth. Ken had a standing invitation from Charlie's parents, which he had declined this year, but he hadn't had Thanksgiving with his own parents in fourteen years.

There were only a few other guests. Linda, of course. Two couples who looked to be neighbors. Three men and a woman who might also be police officers, judging by the way they greeted Dave and Linda.

Even though Ken had never known John Blaine, he could see the man's absence in the longing way Dave looked around the house, and in the alternately hushed and falsely cheerful way the other guests spoke to Maggie. It was felt perhaps most acutely in the way Maggie would sometimes look to her side and seem to stumble at not having someone there.

When Maggie excused herself to make the last preparations for dinner, Ken took the opportunity to walk around the living room and soak in the feel of the man who had ultimately led to his meeting with David Starsky.

He made a circuit of the books of various genres, the mantle full of greeting cards, the throws folded in a basket by the picture window. He came to a stop in front of an astonishing bookcase seemingly dedicated to the man's achievements on the force. It looked like a shrine. He could tell from the dates on the documents and the level of wear and dust on the frames, however, that these had probably already been in place when John had been alive.

"He was pretty unbelievable, huh?" Ken started at David's solemn voice at his side.

"Yeah," he said softly, wishing he had something more profound to say.

"I'll bet he's got more awards than the whole department combined." A smile tempered David's expression. He picked up a photograph of himself and another man who must be John -- sandy-haired, solid, a friendly and somehow confidence-inspiring smile. "He taught me so much. He's the one who recommended me for the academy, when I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do."

"He did the right thing. You're a good cop."

Dave let out a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. "Thanks."

***

"--and _three_ medals of achievement. He was a goddamn hero!" Ken flopped backwards onto his couch, his head on the far side so that the phone cord stretched out along his length. He kicked absently at it with his toe and watched it bounce.

"That's good, isn't it?" Charlie said.

"It's a lot to live up to."

"Nobody's asking you to be some big gay role model, Ken. That was Dave's friend, and it looks like he did a bang-up job of it, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So what's bugging you?" Ken heard the soft sounds of papers being shuffled. Charlie was always doing three things at once. It was sometimes annoying, but right now, Ken was glad for the space. He tucked the receiver between cheek and shoulder and reached behind him to grab a notepad and pencil himself. The elegant yet warm face of Maggie Blaine was difficult to capture, but he thought he could do it with a little practice.

"You know he probably started out wanting to be friends with me just because of how his friend John died."

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, eventually, he's going to get over this whole, uh, obsession he's got. He'll figure out that John was just a really exceptional guy. It didn't have anything to do with whether he was gay or not." He started to draw a smile but changed it to a laugh at the last minute. He'd liked that expression on her, caught by surprise by a joke Mrs. Schwarz made while Maggie was in the middle of passing the gravy to Mr. Schwarz.

Charlie snorted. "And you think you won't measure up anymore? C'mon, Ken. Give yourself some credit. You're smart. You're patient. You're a professional artist with your own studio. What more do you want?"

It was good to hear Charlie say so. "You're great for my ego," he chuckled. He didn't think he'd gotten Maggie's hair quite right, but he decided to move on to Officer Jonas instead. He liked the man's unusually broad nose. It made him smile to draw.

"That's ma job, sir."

"But you know..." Ken finished off Jonas's moustache with a vague squiggle and took another try at Maggie's pretty eyes. He imagined them twinkling and about eight years younger when Dave had had a crush on her. "I almost kind of wish I was like John. He must have been an amazing man. It's no wonder Dave looked up to him."

"Hmm. You ever think that maybe he got all those commendations and whatever because he was sucky at everything else?"

Ken got it immediately. "You mean that he put all of himself into his job, because he couldn't find happiness in his personal life."

Charlie made a noncommittal noise, a verbal shrug that meant 'What do you think?'

"Yeah. You're right."

"That's ma job," Charlie repeated cheekily.

"Jackass," Ken answered... and their conversation turned to other subjects.

***

Ken was surprised the next day when Dave showed up on his doorstep. "What's up?" he asked, but Dave only smiled perfunctorily and sat heavily on the couch. He slumped down until his chin touched his chest.

"I talked to Maggie," he said to the opposite wall.

"Oh?"

"She said it was true. She couldn't have kids. She knew John wanted them, so she offered John a divorce, but he wouldn't hear of it. He said he wasn't going to dump her."

"Oh." Ken sat down next to Dave, bewildered and awkward about the subject. It'd been a very long time since he'd thought about having kids himself. Van hadn't wanted any. It'd never even been an issue.

"Do you... Do you think he really meant that? Or did he just not want to lose his cover?"

Ken only shrugged, not wanting to bias Dave either way. After meeting Maggie and having dinner at her table, it was harder to be cynical about her late husband.

Dave sighed. "I kept thinking... If they'd split up, maybe Maggie could've found someone else. And maybe John could've, too."

Ken waited again, but Dave didn't add anymore. "A man, you mean?" Ken finally asked.

Dave squirmed a little, but he replied, "Yeah. They both might've been happier that way." He frowned. "Or he could've found another woman. Had kids. Then maybe he wouldn't've strayed."

"Maybe." He pursed his lips, not wanting to leave Dave with the impression that marriage to the 'right' woman would have solved John's problems. "Or maybe it would have just hurt even worse when he betrayed his kids as well as his wife."

Dave scowled at him. "Why do ya gotta be so cynical?" He sat up and smacked one fist into the opposite palm. "If John knew he was gay, then he should've just admitted it to start with. A man oughta be honest about himself."

Ken frowned, uncomfortable with the direction of Dave's thoughts. "Even if being honest will make other people hate him? Lose him friends and family? He spent years building his career and his reputation. He could've lost all of that plus his livelihood in the bargain."

"Well..." Dave wavered, then firmed. "Even if he had to find another job, at least he would know he was standing up for his principles."

"Principles!" Ken scoffed lightly. To think that he had been that naïve once himself. "Principles can't feed a person. Can't get him a job. Can't take care of him when he's sick." He huffed an impatient breath. "People who follow their _principles_ wind up out on the street selling their asses to get by." He blushed as Dave's eyes widened. "I didn't mean, literally," he said quickly.

Hadn't he, though? Where did you draw the lines? Four months' rent in a one-bedroom apartment close to campus didn't come cheap. Hank had made that abundantly clear when he'd thrown Ken out, which had been no more than Ken had deserved at the time. Stephen had been both savior and punishment. He'd helped Ken to forget his own sins and others' -- but at a steep price.

Ken had been lucky. If Stephen had been out for something other than just fun, things would have been far different... It'd been a close thing as it was. Enough that Ken could never condemn anyone else for sacrificing their principles.

"I had a boyfriend in college. He never told his parents he was gay." He saw how Dave's entire attention focused on him. He licked his lips and continued. "I thought it was wrong. We argued about it a lot. I was already planning to tell my parents about us over the winter break, and I thought he should, too. He said his parents would cut him off if they knew, and he wasn't about to give up his allowance." He dropped his eyes. "Well, he had the right of it, after all."

"His parents cut him off?"

"No. He never told them. But my parents threw me out that night." He looked up in time to see Dave's face twist in shock.

"Aw, hell, Ken."

"I had a sister..." Had. He was talking about them like they were dead. He wondered if they talked about him the same way. "She sent me a letter when I married Van, saying she was glad I'd 'given up my former habits'. But she never got around to visiting and then... Well, then I got divorced, and I moved without letting them know my new address and..." He threw up his hands. That had been that.

"Shit, Ken. That's really screwed up. I can't believe... Your own family?"

Dave jumped up and paced back and forth, seemingly distraught. Ken knew Dave was close to his mother and brother, and had been very close to his father. Hearing this must have hit a nerve.

"So-- So aside from that one letter, you haven't heard from them at all? Since college?"

"That's about the way of it, yeah."

"Oh, hell. I can't imagine. That's just horrible." Dave dropped back into his seat and stared at Ken, blinking rapidly. "I'd never do that," he finally said, fiercely. "Never. God, if Nicky told me he was fucking _goats_ , I'd whup him one. But I'd never stop being his brother."

Ken frowned and said with some asperity, "I don't think sleeping with other men is really the same as--"

"You know what I mean!"

With some difficulty, Ken fought down his knee-jerk anger. "Yeah. Okay." He sighed, trying to make it airily sardonic instead of just sad. "I was always the disappointment, you know. Lost all the little league games. Didn't make class president. Married the wrong girl. Studied art instead of medicine. This was just the last straw, I guess."

"It's wrong, just the same. Dead wrong. My Ma always says not to speak ill of people ya ain't met, but I think I'm gonna make an exception here."

Ken looked down at his knees, flustered. He didn't know what to say. He had a sinking suspicion he was going to regret sharing this much after Dave left.

"Hey." Ken felt a touch on his cheek, and he jerked his head up, startled.

Dave cupped his chin. His eyes were intense and a little hard. "Your parents screwed up. And it was their loss. They shoulda been damn proud to have you."

He blinked, and the tickle down his cheek caught him by surprise so that he didn't turn away in time. He'd thought he was done crying over his family a long time ago.

Dave caught him before he could hide and pulled him into a hug. Instinctively, he pulled back from the restriction, but Dave just held him tighter. So close, he breathed in Dave's scent -- oil, wood, leather, tropical heat -- and his breath hitched. Fingers ran through his hair, and he found his head releasing its weight onto Dave's shoulder. His eyes closed of their own accord. "Let it out, buddy. It's okay. It's okay..."

  
END Part Three.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
> [Doffed](http://community.livejournal.com/starskyhutch911/222496.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji  
> [Brown Paper Packages](http://archiveofourown.org/works/513227) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji  
> [Points In Common](http://kuonji14.livejournal.com/41545.html) (Wilby Wonderful), by kuonji  
> [The Boys Of Summer](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchgen/LateModels/vg/boyofsummer.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by Vg  
> [The Little Things](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchgen/classics/KHannaKorossy/LittleThings.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by K Hanna Korossy  
> [Rainy Day Sunday](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchgen/LateModels/veniceplace/rainyday.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by Venice Place  
> [The Yes Dance](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyqUj3PGHv4) (video), by punchrobert


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